WingSpan (Taken on the Wing Book 1) (19 page)

“She’s mouthy,” Shadow says bluntly. If she’s royalty then she’s as entitled as Tawny to say what’s on her mind.

“Indeed,” Tawny laughs. “In a place so full of status it certainly sticks out. I’m twelve hundred years old… nearly… and I don’t take shit from anyone; shit praise or shit shit. Cloud has seen fifteen summers and most gryphons attribute her attitude to spending too much time with old Tawny.

“Ouch, that bruise is nasty.”

Shadow lets Tawny’s soft hand guide her to sit on the edge.

“Nearly all gryphons here are common. No magic in their blood at all. Magic runs through some rare female bloodlines, royals, and a male is considered common or royal depending on the blood of his twin sister though you can be certain there is no magic in them. Sher is considered royal because his sister is but Sher has no magic. Talon is common because Feather is.

“The only royals present in the eyrie are you, me, Arden and Cloud.”

Tawny places a palm on the bruise and Shadow pulls away.

“Easy, child. I suspect your magic is protective given what you did to Torrent. Arden can instil bravery and inner strength. My gift is healing. Don’t move.”

Neither of them does and after a moment Shadow takes a full breath without stiffness.

“Turn,” Tawny lets her sink into the warmth of the pool before brushing her fingers along Shadow’s cheek. “There, the bruising is nearly gone.”

Shadow explores the sore spot on her back and looks at the old woman in surprise.

“You did that? Thank you.”

“Bruises are easy,” Tawny says dismissively but Shadow sees she’s proud of herself. “I can heal most injuries but I can also make things worse when compassion demands it. I can’t take a life but when the only path ahead is the last one I can hasten the journey. As long as there is a chance at life I can make things better.

“So to get back to your observation?” she suggests.

“Cloud is mouthy and royal?”

“And indeed,” Tawny smiles. “You felt it when I silenced you. Her magic appears to be in persuasion. For the most part ineffective on me but works well on anyone who doesn’t expect it and in particular males. She will make a challenging companion to some poor gryphon. She has a good sense of it and Arden, I and you, child, will keep quiet about it.”

“Child,” Shadow echoes thoughtfully.

“Yes.”

“I’m thirty, not a child.”

Tawny’s laugh fills the chamber.

“From your scent you have been in season, as has Cloud but you have not yet shared in the blessing of the dead and until you have done that, you are a child.”

Shadow doesn’t feel enlightened.

“In human form you are in season every month but as a gryphon female you are fertile for a day or two every few years. You are mated to Talon. When you are in season you will only want him and he won’t want children with another.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

“He offered his bite,” Tawny explains. “You returned it. Then you offered him your tears and he accepted them. I know this because that is how it’s done.”

“Son of a bitch,” Shadow curses. “Nobody made
that
clear. I mean I feel attached to him but—”

“Cloud is an orphan,” Tawny says. The old woman has a knack for interrupting and this time with the one thing bound to get Shadow’s attention since she grew up as an orphan. “Fifteen years ago a badly injured gryphon arrived at the eyrie. Before he passed he told us a band of wild rogues, males who live in the human world, raided his eyrie. He’d been in the mountains and observed their entry. After a time the rogues began to cast gryphons from the high entrance, their wings bound behind them; the distance too short to become human and take wing again to escape their bonds, too far to survive the drop. He was spotted and dispatched his attacker barely making it here.

“Cloud was the only survivor, only a year old. We sent all we could spare and sent word to other eyries but we knew it was in vain. Talon was with the first wave sent south to assist. He’s a great warrior and it’s beyond me why no eyrie has chosen him to be a ranger; part of its royal guard.

“I don’t know who found her among the dead but she was brought here and I took her in.”

“Oh dear,” Shadow whispers. How long had the child crawled among the dead gryphons? Her mother? Blood?

“We didn’t think she’d make it. So young, losing her twin and everyone she knew. Her strong spirit has pulled her through but she’s angry and distant, refusing closeness with anyone here. Perhaps she protects herself from further loss.”

Tawny sighs as Shadow pulls her knees up as tight as she can. Her own pain is still far too close, binding her to the past in a pitiless wash of memories and grief. Fifteen years of it is unimaginable.

“I won’t be around forever,” the old gryphon says, looking all of her long years. She passes Shadow a towel. “There is nobody here who can get through to her but she seems to find you fascinating.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve never seen her shy with anyone, except you.”

Talon falls into step behind Lev and the master of his guard. During his years as an aspiring ranger he’d suffered his share of broken bones at Soar’s hands. In spite of Soar’s larger size Talon hadn’t spared any lessons about the dangers of underestimating a smaller opponent.

The smells of old sweat and leather lead him down a dark corridor and closer to the main entrance of the eyrie and a chamber generally used for guests to conduct private business. Lev’s enormous crossed sabres reach past his waist and both bear the mark of Master Sky, the legendary blacksmith and warrior who trained Talon. It’s enough to give him a need for challenge in spite of his dress; still barefoot and wearing nothing more than simple cotton trousers.

Talon still itches for a fight after finding Shadow in the black tunic and trousers of a prisoner. Her pleading hand shocked him into keeping his dignity and his wits about him. All he wants is to get back to her but here he is following her sire and his fiercest guard.

He’d once thought of his mate as no more than a common rogue and he swells up with pride, carrying his golden wings a little higher. Shadow is true royalty. Not that he’d doubted Swift and Feather that she was royal but that didn’t equate to royalty. Hearing her sire, head of arguably the most feared and isolationist eyrie on the continent, claim her as his heir is enough to tip his world more than she already has.

Shadow was scared and overwhelmed and it’s clear to Talon why she’d been such an enigma. Up until a few minutes earlier she thought she was human. If anyone can ease her past that way of thinking it’s Tawny.

“Nice to see you again, Talon,” the dark haired male at Lev’s right wing drops back a couple of paces and holds out his right arm. Talon takes his elbow and grips it, squeezing as Soar’s gloved hand holds his.

“Agreed, Soar,” Talon replies, keeping a watchful eye on Lev. The Sire turns his head though his sharp hearing doesn’t need help picking up their soft words. Evesdropping so openly is an obvious display of dominance.

“I hear you’ve adopted this eyrie as your home,” Soar continues and as they ascend the tunnel narrows and the air cools. Lev wants this conversation. Nothing else would cause Soar to speak out of turn.

“That is true,” Talon hooks a thumb in his waistband. The last time he’d spoken with Soar, other than the minor face off in front of Shadow’s apartment, they were both drunk at Cooper’s, the Calgary rogue bar. Unsure why they were fighting other than the usual male disagreement over who’s tougher, their brawl had gone skyward and it had taken nearly a year for the large feather at the end of Talon’s right wing to grow back.

Soar appeared to have repaired his missing tooth.

“I didn’t know teeth grew back,” Talon comments.

“Good dentist though it took some time to find it once I could see again,” Soar points at Talon’s right wing.

“Good dentist,” Talon says lightly.

Soar grins, clearly enjoying the personal moment with Talon before he glances at Lev and sobers.

“It happens I was following Dame Shadow last summer. She was riding south and hadn’t left her apartment for anything other than work in a week. I didn’t recognize your truck at first. Not until you pulled into the gas station.”

Ah shit, Talon. You were busted long before Lev showed up today. This isn’t going to be pretty.

“I was about to intervene and run you off on behalf of her sire,” Soar says, his back to Talon. “I would have only let you see me and you’d have come up with some excuse to leave her side to run off the competition. We’d have had a discussion and you would have walked away. Badass as you are my friend, word was you’d gotten soft, living the human life for a little too long.”

The rumours had reached Talon’s ears as well. Lev leads them into a chamber near the entrance where the gear of many more than two gryphons is stored neatly to the side. A real fire burns in one corner; the only light in the otherwise empty room. He’s curious whether Lev’s guard is roosting in the rocks outside or below taking the opportunity to meet the local females.

“Why didn’t you?”

“The boat fell and before it finished landing on the ground you had her covered up as fast as ever. It was clear to me you’re still very good. Maybe better. Much to my Sire’s chagrin, I retreated and left you alone.”

Lev stops and turns at the far side of the chamber, near the fire. Lit from below in the flickering light he looks like the devil himself; everything his reputation claims.

“Master Soar, see if our gracious friends can spare some of their purest moonwater. You know how much.”

What kind of hellish punishment does Lev have planned if he needs the females’ crazy magic moonwater? Nothing Talon has ever heard of but the gryphon is a recluse and stories about him help keep children from sneaking out alone; a terribly convoluted mixture of the rogue army attack on his eyrie, death, and the name Lev, one of the few survivors mean enough to live through it.

Soar nods gravely to the Sire and turns to Talon, leaning in more closely than either male is comfortable. Talon understands whatever he hears next is between him and his closest friend.

“You have taken on much more than you bargained for by claiming Dame Shadow but I imagine you’ve come to that conclusion already. Should I be punished for giving you an opportunity to impress her I will take more than feathers from you in reparation. Understood?”

“Understood, my friend,” Talon’s blood runs a little cooler as Soar turns and kneels to Lev before leaving them alone in the chamber.

“Talon, son of Stalker,” Lev begins, his voice is friendly but the arms cross. “Approach.”

With his wings held high because he’s done nothing to be ashamed of Talon does and at the respectful distance of five feet drops to one knee, his relaxed hands resting on the other.

He knows what’s coming. This is where Lev says exactly what he thinks of Talon. Everything he would never say in front of Shadow. Talon raises his chin, ready for praise or punishment.

Bring it on.

“Rise,” Lev orders and Talon takes the opportunity to assess Shadow’s sire. The gryphon is several inches taller and at least five hundred years old. Lev is old enough to shift completely; abandoning all hint of his human body. There is something of Shadow’s chin in him, her long graceful neck and the set of her jaw. Her thick brown hair and petite body must have come from her dame.

Talon stares at the wall and waits, wings and tail perfectly still, as Lev takes a step closer. The unimpressed Sire looks Talon over as he moves around behind. Talon resists the urge to turn until Lev steps right up and grabs Talon by the base of his wings. With a growl, Talon’s nails extend to claws and he shakes his shoulders, deciding which way has the least resistance so he can get around to defend himself.

“Easy,” Lev whispers. Talon’s movements cease but his nostrils flare and he turns his head, keeping an eye on the Sire. “She may have chosen you, rogue, but if I don’t like you your next few centuries will be hell.”

Talon’s fingers flex, claws scratching at his palms, but Lev steps away before completing his circle. Lev’s eyes move to Shadow’s mark then he reaches. Fast and accurate, Talon’s right comes up, grasping Lev by the wrist and holding it in place.